


The Blind Date Diner

by DickBaggins



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Blind Date, Fluff, M/M, Sastiel - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2018-03-14 10:02:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3406541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DickBaggins/pseuds/DickBaggins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean sets Sam up on a blind date with some kid named Castiel. It doesn't start off as planned, but it ends pretty well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Blind Date Diner

 “Bad idea, bad idea,” Sam mumbled under his breath, practically the whole way to the diner. It was cold, bone-chilling, and every little word made a foggy cloud for him to stride through, his mounting anxiety made visceral in front of his face. He was walking hard, late because of the bus, stuck behind some godawful snow plow; he'd ducked off three stops early just to try and recoup the minutes on foot. The diner came up way too fast; he swore it usually took longer, like, way longer to get there but there it was, right where it had always been. He shuffled through the parking lot, knocking the snow and slush off his boots at the door, peering inside.

Sam only kind of knew what his blind date looked like, only knew what Dean told him: shorter than you ( _no shit, Dean_ ), kinda tanned, spacey blue eyes ( _what does that even_ mean _, Dean?_ ), messy dark hair, name's Cas.

_Cas_ , Sam mouthed to himself, surveying the customers inside, trying to see if anyone matched his brother's somewhat lacking description. His eye swept over two old ladies, a frazzled mom with four kids, a man bent over a folded newspaper, _way_ older than the _16, 17, I don't know, however old you are, Sammy_ , that Dean estimated. But, Sam could only get a visual on half of the diner, so he sighed, swallowed down his nerves and pushed inside.

It was _warm_ , smelled of bacon and coffee and burgers. Sam took his bright orange mitts off and stuffed them in his pockets, took off his matching hat and swept back his hair, turning a slow circle in the entryway. He didn't see anyone fitting the description and he was about to turn around, sliding his gloves back on and backing away because fuck, he was _late_ , he'd either missed the guy or been stood up or maybe Dean was just fucking with him all along.

Whatever it was, he felt fucking _awful_ , his throat going all tight like he was going to cry and that was stupid, real stupid. He turned around quick, took one big step and collided with someone; he couldn't stop, all clumsy long limbs and he smacked the smaller form right into the door, looking down before he shuffled back, throwing out his hand with absolutely no plan; it rested on a muscular shoulder, wrapped in a puffy blue jacket and Sam looked down into eyes even bluer than _that_ , a cold-flushed face and a wide mouth, dark messy hair...

_Shit._

“...Cas?” Sam ventured, hand still on his shoulder, still crowding him against the door.

“Sam?” He blinked up and Sam got it, the spaciness his brother described, but it was altogether charming and beautiful and he smiled and Cas smiled, all eye crinkles and that mouth stretching across his face.

“Yeah,” Sam huffed out, standing there, smiling down, actually squeezing Cas's shoulder through the coat like he couldn't let go.

Cas glanced at it, but he was still smiling, at least.

“Shit, sorry,” Sam muttered, taking his hand back, taking a big step back too to give Cas his space. Still grinning though, face split apart, heart pounding half-nerves half-excitement. He didn't know what to say, so he didn't say anything, just tugged his gloves off again, stuffed them in his pocket.

“I'm sorry I'm late,” Cas finally offered, nodding towards the outside, “The bus, y'know?”

“Stuck behind a snow plow?” Sam asked, laughter creeping into his voice.

“Yeah, did you see it?”

“I was _on it_ ,” Sam said too loud, shaking his head. “Oh my god, this is weird.”

“It is, a little.”

“So...”

“Lunch?” Cas asked, eyes lighting up again, hopeful and big and blue and Sam nodded quickly, probably would have nodded at anything Cas said, really.

“Yeah, yes, please,” Sam kept nodding until Cas brushed past him, grabbing his arm and tugging him towards a corner booth.

_Their booth_ , they'd come to think of it, after a while, after six months of lunch dates and after many more months of casual, less structured dates. They'd sit on the same side so they could watch the door, so they could remember that awkward first press of their bodies together, totally by accident but somehow on purpose, too. 


End file.
